


Suit Testing

by Stegosaur



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Bondage, Butt Plugs, Latex, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rubber
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 10:32:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9177205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stegosaur/pseuds/Stegosaur
Summary: Donatello's new invention needs extensive testing before deployment.





	

                Donatello held up the shiny black latex with a devious grin, the ink black material absorbing reflecting every last source of light in his lab like a darkly tinted mirror.  Months of blood, sweat, and countless buckets of liquid rubber and ruined spandex had gone into this final design, but here it was, finally cured and watertight, ready for its first wear.  He double-checked the security cameras once more to ensure his privacy, Michelangelo and Raphael watching wrestling out in the living room, Master Splinter meditating after a long day of katas, and Leonardo cleaning dishes in the kitchen.  The fearless leader had been the hardest to distract, which is why Donatello made sure to avoid using non-stick pans and oils when he made dinner, making sure Leo would be scrubbing away for at least an hour on the delicious lasagna, brownies, and casserole he’d made for the family.  Even so, should he be interrupted, he had several excuses lined up for why he’d be squeezed into such an outfit in the first place.

                A liberal dusting of baby powder inside the suit prepared it for his entry, guiding his left leg through the neck hole and opened back, the powder easing his foot into the thick rubber foot at the bottom, both toes melded together into a single, continuous shape.  His other leg followed immediately thereafter, sitting on the edge of his bed and making sure both were snug in the bottom of the suit before slowly unrolling it up over his legs, the rubber squeezing and hugging his flesh like a second skin and making him churr delightfully at its comforting grip.  He stood back upright and gave it another tug up his thighs, making sure it didn’t bunch between his taint in the process, hesitating for a moment.  _This is a test run_ , he thought to himself, trying to focus himself on the science aspect of it.  After all, with some rubber boots and gloves, and a proper mask, this would be perfect for contaminated areas of the sewers.  He could protect himself from all manner of contaminants, air and waterborne alike, with a simple treatment of rubber cement and a coat of latex over the zippers, creating a single, continuous piece of rubber.  Then again, there was the buttplug and lube he kept in a crate under his bed, _and no time like the present_ , he mused.  A quick yank and the crate was in the open, Donatello hastily grabbing the lube and plug, preparing himself for its entry with eager anticipation.

                Bending over on the bed and spreading his legs, he eased the tip of the plug into his anus, resisting the urge to gasp or moan while everyone was still awake and alert.  The tip glided swiftly inside of him and spread his entrance wide, slowly encountering more and more resistance as it widened, though he knew he’d be able to take it no problem with the amount of lube applied, confirmation of such coming shortly thereafter as the plug popped inside of him, his ring clenching around the narrow stem of the plug, a husked gasp hissing through his teeth as it hilted inside of him.  A firm wiggle made sure the extra-wide base wouldn’t accidentally slip inside of him, as well as that it wouldn’t come out accidentally, his arousal quickly growing between his legs from its comforting fullness.  He hastily wiped his hands on the bedspread and kicked the crate out of sight, tugging the suit up over his rump and loins to secure everything neatly there.  The entire groin area had taken a while to perfect, several additional layers of rubber applied and cured to a firm hardness, designed specifically to ‘protect’ his crotch and ass from ‘external stimuli’, as he’d practiced saying for when he’d inevitably have to show it to the family.  In reality, it made sure his erection and plug alike wouldn’t be noticed or felt from the outside, mainly by preventing the former and securing the latter.

                Next came the arms, his hands diving down each sleeve simultaneously in order to bring that rubber up to his chest, zippers scraping against his wrists as his hands poked through the open end of the sleeves.  Once again, the rubber clung to him as if it were his original skin, highlighting his lean physique under the bright lights of his lab, though hiding his plastron under the chest.  The next part was the hardest, as their shells made it impossible to effectively reach behind them and manipulate tiny objects like zippers, though Don’s ingenuity saved the day here.  He reached around and grabbed the string he’d fastened to the zipper, slowly pulling it up over the back of his shell and sealing the suit together in the process, a latex flap covering it from view as he pulled.  Once it nestled under the crest of his shell, he stretched his arms high over his head and tugged it firmly with both hands, the metal leaping over the hump and down the top of his shell with ease, rapidly reaching to his neck before stopping at the top.   He slowly turned his head in the now-tight catsuit, the teeth of the neck zipper nipping lightly at his hide as well as the zippers on his wrists, but otherwise the suit felt absolutely divine, as did the wonderfully sublime pressure it applied to the plug inserted inside of him.  The experiment had been a complete success through and through, and the design easily adaptable to his brothers for actual use in the field, sans some of the more perverted attachments he’d created for himself.

                “So _this_ is what you’ve been working on in private.”  Leonardo’s voice whispered from the doorway, fearless leader silently closing the door behind him and barring it shut, Donatello frozen in fear at being caught by his elder brother.  “What is this, rubber?”  He stepped towards Don, who could only nod in agreement, struggling to compose one of his excuses.  “I knew something was up once I started scrubbing dishes, so I just _had_ to come see for myself.”

                “It’s ah, a hazard suit.  It’s full latex rubber, designed to protect us against contaminants in the sewers.”  Leonardo stopped in front of him, one of his fingers slowly tracing a line down the front of the suit, the material squeaking under his firm touch.  “You can attach some gloves and a respirator hood, and you’re protected against most contaminants.  I wouldn’t work near chemical weapons in this, obviously, but for the crap we find in the worse tunnels, this is ample protection.”  He took pride in his work, Leonardo slowly pacing around him to examine the suit in detail, a sudden, increased pressure on his rump as Leo’s hand pressed in there, a gasp escaping his lips out of reflex as the plug rocked inside of him.  “E-extra padding to protect against external stimuli, too.”

                “Is that why you’re cradling that plug inside of you, Donatello?”  He could feel the color drain from his face as Leonardo called him out, saying nothing in response.  “These zippers aren’t air tight.  How will it protect your hands?”  Donatello felt his chest tense as Leo probed his defense on the suit itself, a finger tracing up his back and shell along the zipper there.  “How will it protect you at all if you need a zipper to enter it anyway?”  He stood motionless as Leo came back around his right hand side, his eyes staring Donatello down.

                “R-rubber cement to seal the air gaps and seams…but it lasts for hours, at least.  I haven’t tried it yet…”  Donatello protested, not eager to conduct an experiment in duration on himself like this, especially one measured in hours at a minimum, unless he’s willing to destroy the suit itself to remove it.  _Perhaps that’s his goal?  To teach me a lesson, shake me out of these perverted tastes_.  He snapped back to reality as he heard the unscrewing of a metal cap, the quiet tink-tink-tink of metal on glass as Leo did something out of sight.  He felt a gentle tug at his back, then a cool sensation from the zipper itself, craning his head around for a look.  “What are you doing?”

                Leonardo said nothing at first, firmly pressing the seam back down after he was finished.  “Testing your hypothesis.  Where are the gloves and respirator?”  Leo’s question was one that demanded an answer, though given what he suspected he had just done to his new suit, he was understandably hesitant about divulging the location of his other prototypes, especially given their ‘non-production’ nature.  He didn’t have to say a thing, however, as once again Leo was one step ahead of him, pulling that sex crate from beneath his bed.  “I assume you keep them here?  At least your test models.”  Donatello swallowed hard as his elder brother pulled a stack of rubber items from the box, ignoring the half-empty lube bottle within.  There was silence between them as Leo unfurled a glove and pulled it over Donatello’s left hand, his fingers entering without much difficulty, though the thick fingers made manipulating fine objects – like zippers – impossible.  His right hand followed next, Leo slowly attaching the zippers to each other and pulling them taut.  Don’s heart skipped a beat as Leo grabbed the hood next, shaking it out and examining it closely.  “This doesn’t look like a respirator to me, Donatello.”  Once again, he remained bashfully silent as Leo held up his gimp hood, two blurred lenses on the eyes to distort his vision, a tight zipper where the mouth would be.  He’d spent many nights wrapped in its tight embrace with that plug filling him up, stroking his stiff length to climax before falling asleep in the ensemble, always with his door closed and locked from inside for privacy.

                “It’s…it’s not.”  Leonardo gave no hint of emotion as he began tugging it over Donatello’s head like a swim cap, making sure the lenses were placed over his eyes before unrolling the tight material over his beak and chin, tugging it down hard to make sure everything fit properly before zipping it to his suit’s neck, Don churring under it as he was secured inside his gimp suit for the first time.   It felt better than he ever imagined, the rubber tugging at itself with even the smallest movements, compressing his body lovingly beneath its thick, black embrace.  He felt the flaps of his gloves lift for a moment, turning his head down to see the blurred visage of his rubber cement bottle, yanking his hands back instinctively as Leo coated the seams and flattened them into place, his grip far more powerful.  The neck lining came next, sealing Donatello into his outfit for several hours at least, and compromising his plans entirely.  The wrestling match would be over in thirty minutes or so, and while Master Splinter will undoubtedly retire for bed, his brothers most certainly won’t.  Yet here was Leo, delicately gluing his suit shut throughout except for one, last zipper, the one over his mouth.  His brother stared at him, that much he could tell, those green arms folded over his plastron.

                “Can you speak?”  Donatello shook his head.  “Good.  Go fetch your actual respirator and rain boots, and bring them to me.”  He complied with the command, struggling not to double over and stroke futilely at his crotch with each step, the plug’s rubber base having formed a loose adhesion to the suit itself, every step of his wiggling it inside his ass.  The respirator was easy enough, hanging on a nearby hook, airtanks filled and all, but the boots were another matter entirely, as he’d left them… _by the door?_   He carefully approached the door to his lab, its bars firmly in place to prevent entry, his knee-high rain boots placed directly in front of it, and definitely not still in the garage where he’d left them.  He picked them up with some mild hesitation as well before carrying the ensemble over to Leonardo, his brother taking them from him and setting the boots aside.  No words were spoken as Donatello felt the harness and tanks slide over his head, Leo adjusting the mask over his hood and pulling the straps extra tight, as if he were going to go diving for junk or to examine a drain pipe.  He even twisted the valves on the tanks, additional airflow entering the mask proper, filtering through the coarse zipper over his mouth, and the holes around his nostrils.  He knelt and slowly guided Donatello’s legs into the rain boots one at a time, cinching their clasps and straps tight around his legs so that they wouldn’t slide off inadvertently.  “I must admit, Donatello, your workmanship is unparalleled.”  The compliment belied ulterior motivations, Leonardo checking the quickly-dried seams of his suit and the straps of his gear, his smile invisible through the blurred lenses.  “Can you hear me?”  Donatello nodded.  “Can you breathe?”  A second nod, Leonardo grinning.  “Good.”  He turned to leave the lab with Don stuck in his suit, the heavy metal bars sliding free of their locks and the door wrenching open, Leonardo turning back towards him.  “Well, come on.”  Donatello’s eyes widened; _surely he doesn’t intend to let the others see me like this?!_   “I said come on.”  Donatello hesitated, frozen in place even as his door was left wide open.  “You either come with me like the obedient little submissive you are, or I call Mike and Raph over here to see, bottle of lube and all.”  The threat was valid and more than enough to get Donatello moving towards the door, his heart racing as he stepped into the lair proper, Leo closing the door behind them.  “Follow me, and keep quiet.”  He stayed behind Leo as they paced toward the living room itself, the sound of commercials blaring from the gathered television sets.  “Hey guys, got a minute?”

                Raphael and Michelangelo turned around toward their elder brother, both of their eyes going wide at the sight of Donatello, Raphael’s mouth quickly breaking ground on another hole.  “Woah, what the fuck is that ugly thing?  You find some manwhore, Leo?”  Mikey stuck his tongue out and made a ‘bleh’ noise, Leonardo folding his arms as Donatello felt two feet tall.

                “That’s Donatello, Raphael, and for that little remark, I’ll see you for some private training first thing tomorrow morning.”  Raphael grumbled at the immediate punishment, Michelangelo’s disgust converting instantly to curiosity, bounding over the back of the couch and running towards him, examining his suited form like a small child.

                “Woah dude, Donnie’s in there?”  He thumped Donatello’s head, the olive turtle growling at the rough treatment from their baby brother.  “What is that thing?  It looks like some serial killer zombie ninja, y’know, like the dude in Fisherman’s Zombie 8.”  Leo chuckled at the comparison and smacked Donatello’s rump, the plug thumping hard against his prostate and making Donnie stumble forward, Michelangelo catching him.  “Woah, damn Leo, I don’t think he’s stable in there, whatever… _there_ actually is.”

                “It’s a hazard suit Don developed.  Worn properly, he says it’ll protect us against contaminants in the sewers and the like, so we can explore the riskier areas of the tunnel system in safety.  Should also cut down on our antiseptic usage from cuts and the like.”  Leo had definitely done his homework on what Don had made, Michelangelo clearly keen on its basic look, his fingers tugging at Don’s glove seams before Leo had a chance to stop him.  “It’s watertight, Mike.  A special adhesive Don made, he’s got the solvent back in his lab.  It just means one of us will always have to be out of the suit to help the others.”

                “Well count me out.  Saw a dude in one of those once, was giving head to a cop in a back alley.”  Raphael snarked at the group, waving his hand dismissively as Michelangelo seized the opportunity to tease Raph.

                “Couple things.  First, if that alley was outside the Banana’s Club, then that was _definitely_ not a cop, and second, what’s the matter with one guy blowing another?  I thought you liked big, long sausages Raph!”  Their hotheaded brother vaulted over the couch and took off after Mike, Leonardo rolling his eyes at the sight.  All Donatello could see were several green blurs darting around the lair before a yelp of pain accompanied Mike’s inevitable tackle to the stone floor by Raph.  “Oooh, I love it when you play rough, Raphie baby.”  A loud slap echoed in the chamber as Raphael undoubtedly smacked Mikey across the head, letting him go before smacking Donatello’s shell from behind.

                “Look, don’t get me wrong Donnie.  It’s not that I ain’t impressed, I am, but…it’s just too ‘out there’ for me, y’know?”  Donatello nodded in agreement, Leonardo’s smile practically audible.  “Oh quit yer grinnin’, Leo.  I know he does good work, I just ain’t wearin’ _that_.”

                “Well I would!  I mean, not the boots and stuff, but come _on_ Raph, he looks like some secret agent in that suit!”  Mikey exclaimed, reaching for Don’s respirator only to be slapped away by Leo.  “What?  I wanna see what it looks like without all that extra stuff on!”

                “Sorry Mikey, but Don and I are going to head out for a test run, make sure it’s as safe as he claims.”  Their brother pouted as Leo turned Don toward the lair exit, Raphael hopping back on the sofa with a squeak of the springs beneath.  “We’ll be back in four hours.  Call my shell cell if anything comes up.”  Mikey made his mock salute before Donatello was turned away again, Leo remaining silent until they’d cleared the lair entirely and their secret wall shut behind them, Leonardo giving him a forceful shove into the sewer trench in the center.  Donatello fell face first into it, the suit performing its job admirably in keeping him clean, dry, and aroused.  He turned to face Leo once he got his footing, his brother holding his bo staff.  “Well?  Get walking, Don.  If I think you’re going too slow, I’ll give that plug a nice tap.”  Don looked up at him incredulously, knowing his expression was hidden by the mask, but still expecting Leo to pick up on it.  A firm tap of his rump and the plug made sure he got the message, a groan escaping his teeth as it wiggled inside of him.  “We’ve got four hours to test the endurance of this thing, so get walking.”  Don whimpered as Leo was clearly serious, trudging along the murky water of the sewer, grateful at least that this wasn’t the waste line for the city.  “Of course, if you do well, I think we can find something more… _mutually entertaining_ for the last hour, if you catch my drift.” 

Don froze again, turning his head toward Leo.  _Did he just proposition me?_   Another smack of the plug against his prostate made him move once more, his gloved hands stroking at the thick rubber covering his genital slit and making full enjoyment impossible at the moment.  _Four hours of this is going to drive me insane with lust, and I don’t know what’s worse: Leo knowing I’m enjoying it, or Leo potentially enjoying me later_.  Another tap came to the plug, this one lighter and a bit more playful.

“Come on, boy.  Move it.”  The tone was jovial, Leo’s step light against the stone walkways.

_Fuck it.  I’ll call this experiment a success either way_.


End file.
